


As Long As You're Mine

by WhatBecomesOfYou



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Wicked - Freeform, meta references to Idina and Kristin on Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatBecomesOfYou/pseuds/WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt finds out that his Broadway-related dream event is actually happening, and manages to score tickets for a date with Sam, but he is unsure of how Sam will react to sitting through a musical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowkitten/gifts).



It was on a morning after a date Sam had planned that Kurt saw the thing that made him gasp in shock, and furiously click through to the main page for more information. They had a tradition: they'd swap off date planning. The one could decide whatever the two of them would do, and there was always an element of surprise to the dates. They never knew what the other one had up their sleeve – and granted, maybe not all of Sam's would have been dates that he would have chosen for himself, but Sam clearly enjoyed them, and that was what was important to him. Plus, there had been all those times that Sam dragged him to a Knicks game, where he was able to indulge his inner celebrity seeker and spot people like David Duchovny and Whoopi Goldberg in the front rows. So that might have been more fun for him than watching the actual basketball, but it was still a date with Sam. He just wished that Lady Gaga was a Knicks fan. Plus, they had gone to their favorite little diner afterward and shared a delicious dessert, so his memories of the night were positive, to say the least.

Emblazoned across the top of the web page were the words: _Flash Sale:_ _One Night Only: Idina and Kristin Back as Elphaba and Galinda for Thanksgiving_.

It was as if Christmas had decided to come a month and a half early this year. Or for the next five or six years. It was everything that he had ever wanted to see or dared to dream about, and it was right there in front of him. Tantalizing him.

He _had_ to get tickets, like some people had to have groceries or breathe oxygen. He didn't care if he had to resort to black market means to do it, he had to get those tickets. Two of them. One for him, one for Sam. And then it could be his big date gesture – _oh_. But Sam wasn't into musicals. Sam would probably be bored stiff at a musical for about three hours. And if Sam decided to tune it out...he didn't know what he'd do.

It wasn't as if Wicked was something that should be used as revenge, because it was too purely concentrated as something good and perfect in this world, but this could be his way of showing Sam a part of his world, like Sam had shared a part of his world with him via the Knicks. Maybe.

He clicked further down the page and hit the link for “more information.”

“Tickets go on sale Saturday, November 9 at 10 am, only here on Ticketsleuth,” the site said. He looked down at the computer clock. It was November 8, so he had to wait a little less than a day to see if he could get the tickets.

He really, really hoped that he could. It would make his day – no, week – no, month – no, his whole life. He could die a happy Kurt if he could score tickets. Even if they were the worst ones in the entire house, he would still be able to say that he had seen them live. Which was more than a lot of people could say.

* * *

They had a standing Friday dinner date at a small bistro around the corner from Sam's apartment. “So, you put any thought into what we're going to do when it's your turn next?” Sam said, stirring the ketchup on his plate with a loose french fry before popping it in his mouth and grinning at Kurt. “I did enjoy going to the Met with you last time, even if I misheard and thought you said Mets, and that we were going to a baseball game, and I got all excited because I thought I was rubbing off on you in a totally different way than I usually do, but -”

Kurt laughed. It was easy to laugh when Sam was around, because he was so earnest in everything that he said. “I stand by that if you want to go to a Mets game, that it's going to have to be on one of _your_ dates,” he said. “But I'm planning something fun, and I hope it works out, because it's something I've wanted to do for a really long time. And I'd love to get to share it with you, because it means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to me.”

Sam reached across the table and patted Kurt's hand. “It'll have to wait for spring to see the Mets, because baseball's over now, but I'll take you to a game, and I'll even try to catch a pop fly for you,” he said, rubbing his hands together with glee. “And I hope your idea works out. If you want to do it that badly, then it's probably either really fun, or involves a cameraman and lots of pictures of me that should only be seen by your eyes -”

“Damn, you ruined the surprise,” he said, nudging his foot against Sam's and smiling. “I was going to hire a photographer from Vogue to do a really sexy shoot of the two of us. Something culturally acceptable and sensual. Maybe make a private coffee table book out of it.” He sliced off a bite of his chicken breast and chewed it slowly and thoughtfully, winking at Sam. “Or, you're going to have to wait and see what's on my mind.”

“Can't wait until I do,” Sam said, and Kurt knew that he was telling the truth.

Hopefully, the truth wouldn't be a letdown when it was revealed.

* * *

He sat there on his computer, finger hovering over the mouse button and watching as his clock stared back at him. 9:59. This was the longest sixty seconds of his entire life – besides maybe the first sixty seconds after he told Sam that he was interested in him, before Sam sealed his lips over his in a desperate first kiss that still made his lips tingle to think about.

The clock turned over, and he frantically refreshed the page. The order form was right there, and he clicked the option for “best available seats.” This was no time to skimp on getting the back of the auditorium where Kristin and Idina would be but tiny flies dancing on stage. He wanted to be able to actually see them.

He felt his whole body shake and thrum as he waited for the page to load with the confirmation. When the page loaded, he let out a little yip of surprise and hugged his laptop. Mid-mezzanine seats, and he checked the seat numbers against the diagram. It was the front row of the section, center of the auditorium, what looked to be seats that he would fight tooth and nail with someone for. And it had only cost him $220, which was less than he was expecting, so it was a positive surprise.

Which this said a lot for how he felt about Sam, it really did, but it was the holidays and what better way to spend the holidays with someone he loved than to spend it on Broadway? And then they could walk around and see the city decorated for the holidays, and maybe drink hot cocoa at a street vendor's cart while walking arm-in-arm, and...he lost himself in a delirious haze of enjoyment imagining a winter holiday season in New York City with Sam.

With Wicked, of course. And that was just going to make things a million times better. It would be still pretty awesome even if it was Phantom of the Opera or Book of Mormon, but he was a Wicked fan through and through.

He picked up the phone and dialed it with shaky fingers. “Hey, Sam?” Kurt asked, trying to steady his voice as to not completely give away the level of emotion he was currently feeling.

“Hey, Kurt! What's up?” Sam said, and Kurt could practically hear the grin radiating through the phone signals and bouncing off cell phone towers.

“Oh, not much. I got the tickets for that surprise I was telling you about,” he said, tapping his finger against his phone. “Just how do you feel about formal wear?”

Sam paused for a moment. “Sorry, was just picturing you in a tux,” he said, lightly laughing, and Kurt had to smile at that. “I – I don't really wear it? Except for like weddings -” Kurt mentally appended _our wedding_ to that comment, “and really formal dances and things like that? Why? You're not having us elope to some really fancy wedding chapel in the Adriondacks, are you? Because I always said that I wanted my parents there.”

“No, silly, we're not eloping,” Kurt said, flopping back on the pillow. The idea did appeal to him, in some form, but they weren't even engaged – marriage had been on their minds, and they'd talked about it, but they seemed content where they were. And besides, if they couldn't survive a Broadway date...he didn't even want to finish that sentence. “Just...make sure you have something nice to wear the day after Thanksgiving, okay?”

“You have me really curious now, but sure, I'll remember,” Sam said. “I might even let you take them off me after the show's over...”

Kurt about swallowed his tongue at the mental images that provided him. Sam half-dressed, half in a suit and tie and half not. “I _better._ Or at least help you along the way.”

“Oh, you will, trust me,” Sam said. “Now, do you want to come over today? I got my Amazon order of Doctor Who episodes yesterday, and I know how you've been wanting to see the return of Donna for a while now.”

“I'm on my way.” He turned over in bed and stood up, practically shoving his feet into his shoes. “I can't pass up the combination of you and Catherine Tate. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

 

They stepped into the theater on the night of the production, and Sam looked around in awed wonder. Everyone around them was chattering and talking loudly, and he looked to Kurt with a degree of panic in his face. “We're at a Broadway play?” Sam asked, craning his head to look at the posters hanging from the ceiling. Kristin and Idina's faces smiled down at them. “Starring Ms. Rhodes and Rachel's mom? What?”

“It's Kristin and Idina,” Kurt said, taking hold of Sam's hand. “And it's only the best Broadway play in all of Broadway history. So, uh, I hope you'll like it.” Even as he said it, the old fears of it not being to Sam's taste were rearing their ugly heads. Sam was going to be bored. Sam was going to hate it. Sam was going to fall asleep and miss the jaunty notes of Popular or the sheer thrill of Defying Gravity. His hand trembled in Sam's, and he had to quell the feeling. “Let's go find our seats, okay? They're supposed to be really good ones.”

“Okay,” Sam said, an agreeable smile spread across his face. Kurt could only hope that the smile that he gave Sam in return was half as believable.

He couldn't tell if his nervous shaking was because he wasn't sure how Sam was going to take the play or because in half an hour, he was going to see two of his idols perform the roles they were born to play.

Maybe it was both.

* * *

He couldn't decide whether to keep his face focused on the stage – because come on, Kristin and Idina were killing it up there, clearly having the time of their life, and the audience was eating it up with a silver spoon – or focused on trying to gauge Sam's reactions to things. He smiled a lot, but Sam _always_ smiled. If Sam wasn't smiling, then there was something seriously wrong that needed to be remedied immediately.

So at least it wasn't like he was hating the play, or anything. Which was a start. Not hating was a good sign, he thought, as his eyes darted between the stage and Sam's face. Even in the darkness he could still make out some of the lines of his face. And – was that a sniffle he heard? It must be allergies, or a cold, or maybe it was the woman sitting behind him.

Sporadically through the remainder of it, he would hear little sniffling noises coming from Sam's direction, but his attention was diverted to focus on the engaging story playing out before him. If this had started before intermission, maybe he could have asked Sam what was wrong, if anything was even wrong, but it hadn't, and – he couldn't get himself too worked up about it. He just couldn't. Maybe he was sniffling from boredom or fatigue.

The last song ended and the lights came up, and Sam turned to Kurt. His face was red and splotchy, almost as if he had been crying. “Hey,” he said, sniffling loudly. Okay, so it had been him all along. His worst case scenario fear had a seemingly-solid foundation.

“Oh my God, what's wrong?” Kurt said, rubbing his hand along Sam's shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace. “You didn't hate the play, did you? I should have never brought you here.”

“Can we get out of here?” Sam asked, looking up at Kurt with sad, tear-filled eyes. “I – can we just – please?”

“Of course. Of course we can,” Kurt said, and they got up and walked out of the theater. Sam buried his face into Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt could feel his jacket soak in Sam's tears. They walked out onto the sidewalk, and Kurt pulled his arm around Sam's waist and pulled him close. “Of course. What's wrong?”

“I – I – you're the Elphaba to my Fiyero,” Sam said, blowing his nose and looking at Kurt with a watery half-smile. “It was so sad. Because they were doomed, or seemed to be doomed, and I don't want that to happen to us. No. No. Not ever.”

If there were words that Kurt never expected Sam to say – like, ever – those would have been some of them. At least, the Elphaba and Fiyero part, because he didn't realize that Sam had been that into it – of course he had been. It was Wicked. Who could resist the allure of Wicked? And then he mentally slapped himself, because Sam was distraught, and needed him. He motioned for Sam to sit down with him at a nearby cafe's table.

Sam took Kurt's hands in his across the table and closed his eyes. “I don't want us to be doomed. Ever since we got together, I've never wanted anyone but you, Kurt.”

“I don't take just anybody to see Wicked,” Kurt said. “I mean, it's something that means a lot to me. And I watned to share it with you because it's never going to happen again. Not like this. It's once in a lifetime.”

“Do you really think I'd take just anyone to see the Knicks, either? I know those games bore the crap out of you, but I also know that you're taking notes on celebrity style the whole time. But it means so much to me to have you sitting right next to me and being a part of something I'm a part of too.”

“It's not my fault that Whoopi knows how to dress when she's going to the Garden!” Kurt said. “But – do you _really_ feel like we're doomed?” If Sam kept this up, he might just start crying too.

“No.” The conviction was sure and strong in Sam's voice as he spoke. “I don't feel like we're doomed, because I love you and you love me, and I can't imagine spending my life with anyone but you.” He paused, shifted positions in his seat, and traced his finger up and down Kurt's finger. “I wish I had it on me.”

“Had _what_ on you?” His curiosity was piqued – his curiosity was one of his stronger and stranger attributes, sometimes.

“Never mind,” Sam said. He encircled Kurt's ring finger with two of his own fingers. “I can't imagine spending my life with anyone but you. I don't want to. Will you marry me, my Elphaba?”

He felt the blood rushing through his ears, and he looked at Sam. There was no joking evident in his expression, just love mixed with the remainder of the tears that he had shed during the play. “Of course, my Fiyero,” he said, smiling as he leaned in for a kiss. “You'll never have to imagine life without me. Ever,” he whispered, kissing Sam with all the passion in his heart. Sam squeezed his fingers around Kurt's, as if he was putting on a ring, and kissed Kurt back; he allowed his hand to drop from Sam's grasp to encircle his neck. “Is this what I get for taking you to a Broadway play? You totally stole my thunder on my date night,” he said, barely suppressing a laugh as he spoke. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“I've been wanting to do it for a while,” Sam said, rubbing his nose against Kurt's and smiling at his laugh. “I have the ring at home, and I was just waiting for the perfect moment – and that perfect moment came when I didn't have it on me, of course.”

“Let's go back to your apartment, then,” Kurt said, tugging at his hand and trying to pull him up. “I want to see my ring. And then I want to help my -” he paused for dramatic effect, “- _fiance_ get undressed and celebrate a little.”

“That sounds great,” Sam said. “Oh, and Kurt?” he asked, nestling his head on top of Kurt's as they walked back in the general direction of Sam's apartment.

“Yeah?” He couldn't stop this fluttering sensation in his stomach, not even if he tried. It wasn't every day that a guy got proposed to like this. Especially not with a Wicked-themed proposal.

“If you take me to a Broadway musical again, I might just have to elope with you.”

“I'll have to take you up on that sometime.”


End file.
